


Promnistober: One Day at a Time, Darling

by SongOfMarbule



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection, One Word Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule/pseuds/SongOfMarbule
Summary: A collection of daily one-shot stories with Prompto and Ignis, and their relationship with one another, as the focus, for the month of October.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Promnistober: One Day at a Time, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Am I really doing this again? Yes, I am really doing this again. Happy October, everyone! Like I did back in 2018 with [Promptober: Autumn Anamnesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266328/chapters/27876792), I've decided to take up the challenge of doing a fic a day based on prompts - only this time, it's entirely Promnis flavoured, because why not?
> 
> Each story will be based on combined one-word prompts from the 2020 [Promptober](https://twitter.com/miluette/status/1306720193050275843?s=20) and [Igtober](https://twitter.com/i_s_e_b/status/1305624604300386304?s=20) lists by Miluette and ISEB! Special thanks to my bestie Godspoison for helping me come up with scenario ideas for each prompt. 
> 
> Will I be able to keep up? Who knows - I sure hope so. Without further ado, please enjoy!
> 
> (Rating right now is T, but may be subject to change higher, depending on if the Writing Daemon in my mind wants to be naughty. )

He was off the clock now, but even still, Ignis felt like his work never ended. Busy, busy, busy; that was the Scientia way, it seemed, the weight of his responsibilities weighing him down like the stacks of papers in his briefcase. Gladio always made certain to remind him to  _ not work himself into an early grave, dammit _ , and in remembering so, Ignis allowed himself a minimum of one small luxury per day: and that luxury was stopping by his favourite coffee shop,  _ The Karma Chameleon, _ on his way home from the office.

No place brewed his  _ dark like the chambers of his heart _ coffee like the  _ Karma _ did; he knew this because he had shopped around the entire town to find something adequate enough for him in the past, and this place far outranked the others. There was something particularly inviting about the atmosphere; how the furniture looked modern yet rustic, the staff were cheery but not so that they were dreadful, and the other customers always minded their own business. In Ignis’ books, that alone made the establishment worthy of an A+ grade.

That afternoon he had left the office two hours late - his back ached from extended use of his desk chair, and any energy he may have had had been sapped clean from his body after all the tedious tasks he’d had to deal with. He felt like a zombie, making staggered motions and perhaps groaning a few bars that resembled words, but who knew if he had actually succeeded in ordering what he had craved at the counter; his mind was in a faraway place, somewhere else but here. 

“Thank you,” he said to the barista, fingers curling around his now-filled reusable -  _ after all, one must think of the environment -  _ coffee tumbler, before he turned and made measured strides over to a table to sit at.

He felt his backside hit the chair beneath him, and he was sure that he had set his coffee down on the wooden surface of the table - but instead of drinking his beverage, he heaved a heavy sigh and moved a hand to his forehead. He’d really overdone it today. And he better not let Gladio or Noctis know, lest he have to listen to their incessant nagging for the remainder of the evening. He knew that they had his best interests in mind, but they just  _ didn’t understand _ .

“Hey, uh.”

A voice.

He acknowledged that he had heard it; he just didn’t react. There were other customers in the cafe, too, and all of their conversations buzzed in an indiscernible cloud around him - who knew where those words had come from, and who they were directed at.

“Yoo-hoo.”

Again.

“Hey dude, are you okay? You look pretty, uh. Out of it.”

Ignis opened his eyes at last, and looked up.

A sunflower.

In the middle of the table was a cut sunflower, sitting in a pretty little vase; homemade pottery that was just one of many decorations in the cafe. Ignis’ eyes focused on the painstakingly applied paint, blues and purples and whites and yellows all in a squiggly pattern that circled the top and bottom. He had a mind to ask the barista who had made such a pleasant piece of art, but before he could even consider it, there was that voice again.

“Hello?”

The sunflower.

No, no. Not the sunflower. What was  _ behind _ the sunflower.

Peering around the vase was a young man, hair as yellow as the petals and eyes as bright as the paint. He smiled when their eyes met, and Ignis couldn’t help but notice the little seeds that covered his cheeks - no, not sunflower seeds, the  _ freckles _ that seemed to glow on his visage, giving him a warm, friendly aura. 

“Hey. Sorry to bug you, but, well.” He gestured to the table. “You kinda sat here, instead of at one of the other empty tables in the place, so I thought that maybe you wanted to chat. Or something.”

Ignis took in a breath. What were words? Did he even know them?

“Ah, my apologies,” Ignis managed at last. He sat up straight in his seat, placing his hand on his coffee mug to give the illusion that he was not, in fact, an utter mess. “I must not have been paying attention. I will move at once. Sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, no, you’re not bothering me at all!” the man replied, waving his hand just as Ignis was about to stand. “Quite the opposite, actually. I don’t mind company. But it’s cool.”

For some reason, Ignis felt compelled to stay. “If you insist,” he said curtly.

“Sure.” The blond shot him another smile, and Ignis noted the sheer size of the man’s coffee cup on the other side of the table. No wonder he seemed to have so much energy. “The name’s Prompto.”

“Ignis,” said Ignis, and at last he lifted his cup for a slow sip. He sighed, this time from pleasure, as the coffee was the perfect temperature, the perfect smooth bitterness that he had needed hours ago.

“Ignis,” Prompto repeated. “It’s nice to meet you, Ignis. I think I’ve seen you around here before?” He rested his head on his hand, a thoughtful expression crossing his features before he jolted, eyes widening. “Not being creepy, I swear! I’m just here a lot, so sometimes I recognize other regulars.”

“Is that so?” said Ignis.

“Uh huh,” said Prompto. “You always look so important; got places to go, things to do.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Heh, I knew it. But even busy, important guys can’t say no to a decadent cup of  _ Karma _ coffee, huh?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Ignis’ lips, just a little. “You also wouldn’t be wrong. There simply isn’t any other place that can compare to their quality.”

“Heck yeah! That’s what I’ve been telling everyone.” Prompto threw his hands up, evidently an animated talker. “A buddy of mine the other day outright  _ scoffed _ at me when I said that  _ Karma _ kicks  _ The Wired Bean _ ’s coffee out of the  _ park _ any day of the week. Can you imagine even comparing the two? Simple, you  _ can’t _ .”

“I agree,” said Ignis, taking another sip of his drink. “I am quite certain that  _ The Wired Bean _ utilizes instant powder coffee and tries to pass it off as authentic house-made brew. Absolutely ghastly. I can tell.”

“That’s what I said!” Prompto laughed. “Like, stuff from the grocery store tastes better than that. Here, though? It’s like, I wouldn’t be surprised if they grew their stuff in the back room, it tastes that fresh.”

“Indeed.” Ignis eyed the curious young man, analyzing him. He didn’t look it, but apparently Prompto was just as much a connoisseur as he was when it came to drinks. “So tell me, Prompto, what is it that you do for a living?” he asked.

“Me?” Prompto looked taken aback, as if he were surprised that someone cared enough to ask him such things. “Oh, I’m a photographer. Freelance. It’s been kinda hard finding gigs lately, but I’ve got something pretty exciting lined up for next week.”

“I see,” Ignis said. “Have you asked around the community to see if anyone would be interested in your work? I know some shops support local artists, and insist on featuring work such as yours framed on their walls.”

Prompto chewed his lip. “I considered it, but…” he trailed off.

“But?” inquired Ignis.

Prompto shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t think I’m quite ‘coffee shop wall’ material.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Maybe. What would I even submit as a print, though?” Prompto picked up the backpack that sat by his feet, loosening the drawstrings that held it closed. He soon produced an expensive-looking camera. “Maybe… a pic of this sunflower?”

“Flowers are a rather popular subject,” said Ignis. 

Prompto lifted his camera and brought it in front of his face. “Hold still.”

“Wait---” began Ignis.

And then he was blinded by a flash of light.

Stunned, Ignis could do nothing but just sit there, holding onto his coffee cup for dear life.

Once the spots and dots cleared from his vision, Ignis caught sight of Prompto regarding his camera screen, a subtle smile on his lips. 

“Whoa,” said Prompto. “You’re right. Maybe I  _ am _ coffee shop wall material after all.”

“May I---?” started Ignis, but he was interrupted by a loud ringtone - was that the chocobo theme? - and instead of continuing, he just sat there, utterly dumbfounded by this odd person he’d made acquaintances with. 

Prompto picked up his cellphone, a long string of various cartoon character charms hanging from the bright yellow case, clinking against plastic as he held it to his ear. “Hello?” he said, his brow scrunching as he focused on the call. “Yeah. Yeah? Already? Well, all right, I’ll be there in five. No, I can’t get there sooner--- okay. Sure. Sure. Cool. Bye.”

_ Clink _ . And the call was over. 

“All right, it’s time for me to skedaddle,” announced Prompto, banishing his camera from whence it came, cellphone tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie. “It was nice chatting with ya, Ignis. I hope you can get some sleep soon. Don’t work too hard, yeah?” He stepped away from the table.

“Wait,” said Ignis. “The photo that you just took. May I please see it?”

Prompto hesitated. Then he smiled, and Ignis swore the whole room lit up. “Next time, okay?” He winked, then slung his backpack over his shoulder. “See ya ‘round.”

And then, as if in a fairytale, he vanished, leaving Ignis alone. It was no different than how he had always spent his time in this cafe, and yet, it now felt emptier than usual, for some reason.

Every day preceding that, Ignis would return and sit at that same table, the one with the little vase that housed the yellow-petaled flower, hoping that the other Sunflower would appear once more. And the next time he did, Ignis’ world grew brighter, and continued to do so each time their paths crossed.

And that was how Ignis’ impromptu portrait became a staple on the walls of the  _ Karma _ , and the Sunflower became a staple of his life for the remainder of his days.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblrs:  
> [caseofthestolenspecs (FFXV)](http://caseofthestolenspecs.tumblr.com)  
> [saturnvalleycoffee (Misc/main)](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com)
> 
> My Twitters:  
> [moonkissedstars (FFXV)](https://twitter.com/moonkissedstars)  
> [SongOfMarbule (main)](https://twitter.com/SongOfMarbule)


End file.
